Camelot Tales
by Camelotpointe
Summary: My collection of short stories based on the characters of Merlin. Chapter 1 - Magic
1. Magic

Hi everyone. This is the first fanfiction story I have published and will include many short stories based on the characters of _Merlin_. The first few chapters are part of an arc I wrote based on words which describe each of the characters. I have kept Merlin as **Magic**, Arthur as **Courage** and Gwaine as **Strength**, as in _The Eye of the Phoenix_, but I have also written stories for the other characters. This arc will include Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Gwaine, Leon, Elyan, Percival, Lancelot, Uther, Gaius and Mordred. Hope you enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think.

…..

He walked among the fires, looking neither left nor right. He was the only person in the world, and the world was nothing but flames…

The pyres burned all around him, but the flames parted before the cloaked figure. He radiated magic and power – such that fire shrank away from him, and the very earth trembled under his feet.

He had the power to stop the world. And the power to destroy it.

He was Magic. And Magic was him. They were one and the same, and he could never truly die so long as magic remained.

The man stopped, turning in a slow circle. He raised his arms, looking towards the sky, and roared. The flames spun around him, sparking and crackling with magic. They leapt higher and higher, then vanished into the sky.

He waited patiently, looking up into the orange sky. Suddenly there was a clap of thunder, and the heavens opened above him.

Rain poured down in torrents, drenching the cloaked figure and dousing the remaining fires. He raised his arms as the rain inundated the land, cleansing it, making it over new.

He was Magic.

He was Light.

He was Emrys.

He was Merlin.


	2. Darkness

She simmered, her rage forever burning under the surface of her skin, threatening to rise up and consume her. She smirked wickedly. She had learnt to control her emotions, to push back the rage that was always there.

Since she had realised that she had magic. Since she knew she would be killed if she was discovered. Since one of her best friends had tried to poison her. Since she had discovered that the man she hated most in the world was her father. Since she had found the one person who truly understood her and she had been cruelly taken from her. And that she herself had to be the one to end her sister's life – that was the hardest part.

So now she did not let herself feel emotion. She never let her barriers come down, never allowed anybody to see the real Morgana – the little girl inside her that was scared of what she could do and how she could hurt people.

She was Darkness.

She was Evil.

She was Morgana.


	3. Bitter

He had longed for a son, an heir. They had tried and tried, but eventually he had realised that Ygraine could not conceive. He needed an heir to succeed the throne of Camelot, or all of his work would be for nothing. He was driven mad with longing, and eventually lay with another – the beautiful Lady Vivienne, the wife of his best friend and most trusted knight Gorlois. But he had still not been satisfied. The child was a bastard – it would not be recognised as Camelot's rightful heir.

He had turned to the sorceress Nimueh for help. She had promised him that she could provide him with a legitimate heir – but her help would come at a price. She told him that for a life to be given, a life must be taken, but he had never dreamed of the terrible implications. Desperate for an heir and with no inkling of what was to come, he had begged her to grant him this favour and she had reluctantly agreed.

Nine months later Uther was overjoyed to have a son, but when Ygraine died in childbirth his joy turned to an all-consuming, bitter rage. He had looked around the room, his fury building. His poor, dead wife lay still and silent on the bed. She had given her life for this baby, but Uther knew that if Ygraine had had any choice she would have stayed with him and their baby, their son. He refused to even consider the possibility that he could be responsible for her death. Nimueh was to blame! Nimueh and the evil gift, the magic, that she possessed. Even while it appeared to grant his wish, it took from him what he had loved the most in the world. His bitterness corrupted his mind, causing him to persecute all those with magic in the belief that anyone who practised magic knew only evil.

He was Bitter.

He was the King.

He was Uther.


	4. Wisdom

For years he had studied medicine lore. In the time before the Great Purge he had practised healing magic, using it along with his knowledge of science to cure the sick and wounded. Alice, too, had excelled at healing, although she had been more daring than he in the kinds of magic she used. She had made it her mission to learn all that she could about every kind of magic, sometimes venturing into dark and dangerous waters in her quest for knowledge. But she had always managed to protect herself and, more importantly, to remember who she was and what her magic was for.

He was a scientist, and was content to learn only healing magic, as well as the basics of elementary magic. He was trained in the lore of the Old Religion, and knew of almost every legend to have been told.

It was he who Merlin asked for advice. It was he that Uther, and later Arthur, had relied upon to provide information about any kind of magical beast, symbol or warning. He could read and decipher almost twenty languages, and had read more books than anybody else in the kingdom, excluding his old friend Geoffrey of Monmouth, who presided over the Hall of Records and had read every book kept there.

He was Wisdom.

He was mentor to Emrys.

He was Gaius.


	5. Love

The Queen wrapped the bandage tightly around the arm of a wounded knight, trying to decrease the amount of blood pumping from the wound. She gave the knight a brief smile before turning away to tend the other wounded knights and villagers.

She nodded to Gaius as she passed him, but neither spoke. They concentrated on the task at hand. She needed to stay busy to keep her mind off the battle – off the dark thoughts that lurked at the corners of her mind. Every time she paused, the sickening images swirled through her head; Arthur, lying cold and dead on the ground; Merlin, staring up at her unseeingly; Leon, Percival, Gwaine, all dead, surrounded by a pool of their own blood.

And Morgana. Morgana, triumphant, standing atop a mountain of dead bodies – the bodies of the people she used to care about.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, the Queen forced her thoughts back to the task at hand. She had to stay strong. She had to keep faith.

She was Love.

She was the Queen.

She was Guinevere.


End file.
